Chapter 47 That Scoundrel Liang!

Because the size of the transcription booklet was limited, the poems accompanying the paintings were always placed on a separate page.

Master Ye was startled by what he saw.

He had never expected Master Qiu, usually so composed, to lose his poise in such a manner.

With a heart full of astonishment and confusion, Master Ye turned to the page bearing the inscribed poem.

“The spring river’s tide rises level with the sea, and the bright moon ascends with the tide upon the ocean.”

“For thousands of miles, the glittering waves follow the flow—where along the spring river does the moon not shine?”

After reading just these two lines, Master Ye, who had moments before appeared calm and collected, shot to his feet, his expression now just as moved and astounded as Master Qiu’s had been.

“Heaven and river merge in flawless clarity, the solitary bright moon sailing the empty sky.”

“Who on the river’s bank first beheld the moon? In what year did the river’s moon first shine upon men?”

“Generations flow endlessly, yet the river’s moon remains ever the same.”

“Who knows for whom the river’s moon waits? All we see is the long river carrying the waters away.”

The further he read, the more his heart surged; the astonishment in his eyes grew even fiercer, as though he had seen a ghost or a god.

“The slanted moon sinks into the sea mist, the road from Jieshi to Xiaoxiang stretches boundlessly.”

“How many have returned home by moonlight? Fallen blossoms sway, filling riverside trees with longing.”

When he finally reached the last two lines, Master Ye stood as though turned to stone, his entire being suffused with such righteous energy that his robes fluttered in a sudden gust.

“To think that such a peerless masterpiece could have been penned by a mere ghost officer!”

Stunned for a moment, Master Ye looked, bewildered, at Master Qiu.

“The Spring and Autumn Brush bestowed its blessing, transforming that Moon Over the Sea painting into a sacred relic on the spot. That alone is proof enough that this poem was indeed composed by that ghost officer, Xu Ye.”

Master Qiu could only give a helpless, wry smile.

They could both foresee that from now on, whenever this poem was mentioned, the disciples of the Academy would be reduced to mere foils, objects of ridicule.

“Where on earth did this Xu Ye come from, and why have I never heard of such a person?”

Master Ye stared at the poem in the booklet, his face still full of confusion.

“Xu Ye… now that you mention it, I recall that after the Xu family was slaughtered by vengeful spirits, there was said to be one surviving descendant, also named Xu Ye.”

Master Qiu murmured thoughtfully.

“The Xu family? Do you mean the descendants of the Sub-Sage Xu Jiugé?”

Master Ye suddenly looked at Master Qiu with great seriousness.

“That’s right, it must be him!”

Master Qiu nodded with emphasis.

“It’s said that after surviving, the young man bartered with the Ghost Suppression Office, agreeing to quickly close the case in exchange for becoming a ghost officer himself.”

He added this detail.

“What he sought from the Ghost Suppression Office was not silver or gold, but the position of ghost officer. It seems the Xu family’s son is not the feckless wastrel the common folk would have him be; at the very least, he knows how to preserve his own life.”

Master Ye did not scorn Xu Ye for his actions; on the contrary, his face showed admiration.

“He is, after all, a descendant of the Sub-Sage.”

Master Qiu sighed.

“Judging by this poem alone, the young man is either hiding his true talents, or he has inherited all the literary fortune of the Xu clan in the capital—otherwise, such breathtaking poetic genius is simply inexplicable.”

Master Ye muttered.

The vision of the Academy’s masters was far beyond that of ordinary men, and they quickly deduced two possible explanations.

“I think he has simply been hiding his abilities all along. As for this ‘literary fortune’ business, that’s far too mystical; only a few of the ancestral sages ever spoke of such things.”

Master Qiu shook his head.

“Don’t forget, Xu Jiugé’s greatest skill was in reading fate and severing fortune.” Master Ye suddenly looked gravely at Master Qiu. “It’s said that the reason the Great Liang dynasty was able to found its state was because Xu Jiugé severed three hundred years of the Zhou dynasty’s destiny in a single stroke. At that time, Zhou was still at the peak of its power.”

“We’ve debated the matter of national fate many times, my friend,” Master Qiu shook his head in disagreement. “I still say the rise of Great Liang was due to Zhou’s founding on military might and its relentless pursuit of war, which led to the people’s resentment and brought divine retribution. Our Great Zhou, on the other hand, was founded on Confucian virtue, and the first emperor practiced benevolent rule. That is why the people’s will turned to us.”

“Let’s not argue about this any further.”

Master Ye knew that if they continued, another quarrel was inevitable, so he waved his hand to signal the end of the topic.

“Regardless of whether Xu Ye is hiding his talents or burdened with literary fate, he is now a ghost officer, and it seems he has even awakened martial courage. He is no longer destined for our Academy.”

He gave a rueful smile.

“So it is.”

Master Qiu also managed a wry grin.

“We can only hope he doesn’t compose another such peerless poem, or else our Academy’s disciples will never again be able to show their faces before the world.”

He said this half in jest.

“A masterpiece of this caliber is rare even in a decade. Even if he does bear the literary fortune of the Xu family, it’s unlikely he’ll ever write another like it.”

Master Ye thought Master Qiu was worrying unnecessarily.

“Let us hope so.”

Master Qiu nodded, his gaze falling once more onto the transcription booklet. As he idly turned another page, his eyes suddenly blazed with fury, and he roared out in rage:

“That scoundrel Liang Daoyuan! How dare he leave his own name after such a poem!”

At these words, Master Ye looked down, and there, beneath Xu Ye’s poem in the booklet, was a bold inscription: “Named by Master Wenchang: ‘Moonlit Night on the Spring River.’”

Master Wenchang was the courtesy name of Examiner Liang Daoyuan from that day.

“That old villain! He must have begged Xu Ye to let him bestow the title!”

Master Ye also cursed aloud, his eyes filled with envy, for after this, Liang Daoyuan’s name would surely be passed down through the ages with this peerless poem.

...

“Achoo!”

At the entrance to the Registry Barracks, Xu Ye had just stepped down from Lin Buyu’s carriage and couldn’t help but sneeze again.

“So many people thinking about me so early in the morning?”

He rubbed his nose, wearing an expression that said, “To be this popular is a burden in itself.”

“Shameless.”

Lin Buyu shot him a glare and strode quickly past, her face all but shouting, “I don’t know this fool.”

“Hey there, Xiao Ye!”

Just as Xu Ye was about to argue with Lin Buyu, the burly Ironface suddenly appeared before him like a gust of wind.

“I’ve got some good news for you!”

Before Xu Ye could even greet him, Ironface threw an arm around his shoulders and whispered excitedly in his ear.

“Your wife agreed to let you have a third child?”

Xu Ye blurted out, for the two of them were already on such familiar terms that they often joked with each other.

“Bah!”

Ironface spat, then shook Xu Ye’s shoulder.

“It’s about the Cao family case!”

At these words, Xu Ye’s spirits instantly lifted.

“Out with it, then!”

He urged eagerly.